


Slade Wilson Ficlet Requests October 2007

by Merfilly



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Multi, Request Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-31
Updated: 2007-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-12 12:06:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various Slade fics</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slade Wilson Ficlet Requests October 2007

He feels the chill hit him at the same moment his heart dares to skip a beat, just when his breath falters. He sees himself goad and taunt his beloved son, tear apart his daughter's world, all with words and blows they never should have felt.

He sees his prized student falter in pain from knowing he has broken his word.

He hears her arm snap.

And then she is there, holding him, soothing him in a mix of languages uniquely their own. Not him, she reminds him, cursing his mind's ability to craft the events that other one had made them suffer so clearly. As much torture as it was for them to experience the last two years, she wonders if it is even harder on him to imagine it all.

* * *

One day, Slade Wilson would figure out just which gods he pissed off when he was born. Right now, he was more concerned about the rippling energies tearing through him, threatening to strip him of everything he was. He could win free, he could escape, continue his plans, his agenda…

The powerful being watched with vengeance for the blood of the thousands of innocents, shed at the word of this man, as the man twisted and contorted in efforts to escape Divine Retribution. Immortality was meaningless now, as judgment waited for its rightful victim.

Maybe his death would give peace to some.

* * *

When he was younger, he wanted to serve his country. They used him, made him the best of the best and beyond, then threw him away over the life of his friend.

Then he wanted to keep his family safe from him being what he was. It took him some time to learn it, but he was backstabbed on that part by his own kin, losing them all in one blow, then each one individually.

Until there was just her. His kitten, his daughter. 

When Nightwing showed him the error of that, there were no more ties, no more tethers to the rest of the human race to hold him back.

Now, he's in it for himself, and maybe that's how it should have been all along.

* * *

For days after, he tried to banish the memories.

The joy, at knowing his friend was alive, albeit much changed.

The stirrings, caused by the sight of the 'boy' he had known, not quite a man.

It was easy to be angry, to let the burn sustain him at the callousness of his old friend's younger self.

But at night, in the bed in the house his friend had given him…it was a fervent hope, a faith in what they had shared, that let an old man's heart keep ticking.

That same faith was vindicated, the day an older, wiser old friend walked back in, apology on his lips and written in his body.

Wintergreen accepted it, and filed it as a lesson to continually reinforce…once the joy had receded some.

* * *

Wintergreen had known his death would come with Slade Wilson near. There was no way it could not, when both men had been bound up in each other since Korea.

He had never truly believed Slade could kill him directly, without firm cause.

He didn't even as the sword came down.

His one-time student, true companion, friend, and employer would not do this. That look in a singular eye turned dark by malevolence vindicated all the faith Wintergreen had.

He only prayed, when his friend came back to himself, that Slade survived the shattering blow of losing his best friend.

* * *

That it is the pair of Princesses should not have surprised him. He whirls to counter a sword, only to dodge a vicious blast of energy. He concentrates on the now, on the fight. Much as he wishes he could die, he cannot lie down and accept defeat.

The regrets linger, in the back of his mind. Regret for his children, for his student, for lost friends and family in general. 

He does not regret that he will kill the woman who ended his Addie's life, as he lifts the sword while she is at his mercy. The blade starts to fall…and he has one last regret. That he won't be able to tell the little bird what a shot her boy had made, before he falls, never having seen the arrow coming.

* * *

The little bird had blamed him for the death of Nightwing, of Dick Grayson. After disarming Robin of a gun that had never really fit the boy's hand, Slade had listened, and half-agreed. 

Breaking his word to the kid had been necessary. So he tells himself, and doesn't look back at it.

But with Robin here…he sees something. He sees a boy that has bent, broken, even shattered, and needs molding back into something whole.

By the time Slade's done, Robin is gone, and Renegade is reborn.

Even if he is but a pale copy of what could have been.


End file.
